Tamed by Innocence
by Love-your-suit
Summary: Role play turned story. Several scenes from Silence of the Lambs, and many references to Hannibal. Clarice/Hannibal for some early parts, but mainly Hannibal/OC. Eh, why not?
1. Preface

No profit is made from this other than my own satisfaction.

This is actually two different roleplays put together. One with Hannibal and Clarice, and the other is what happened when my writing partner and I realized that, keeping them canon makes Clarice and Hannibal not work so well. He suggested I use an OC of mine that he really loves. So, there you have it.

Characters:

(canon is bolded)

**Hannibal Lecter**

**Clarice Starling**

**Frederick Chilton**

**Barney Matthews**

Arleen Makem

**Mason Verger**

**Rinaldo Pazzi**

We show the time line by playing out parts from Silence of the Lambs and making many references to Hannibal.

Enjoy.


	2. Chapter 1

Clarice glanced over her shoulder, clutching onto her questionnaire a bit tighter as the door locked tightly behind her. She glanced down the row of cells, keeping close to the brick wall, her head held high. Her lips pulled away in disgust as Miggs hissed at her, though a shiver did crawl up her spine. And that's when she got to the last cell, looking to her left.

She sees him there, and something about him makes her stomach clench. She knew about what he had done, what he was capable of, and despite her training she had to respect the power he held in his unassuming frame.  
She glances at the drawings that line his wall, the small, hard looking cot. She's too busy studying him in his cell to remember to greet him, to remember to introduce herself.

Lecter had been visited by Dr. Chilton in the usual abrupt and unexpected manner, though despite Chilton's best efforts to alarm Lecter he had become far too predictable. Much to his distaste, he was to expect a visitor. For the first year or so of his incarceration he had enjoyed toying with aspiring psychologists and news writers, then turning them away with nothing but the memory of a short lived condescending dialogue. He peered through the plate glass at what he perceived to be an average student collecting information for a thesis, his eyes cold and calculating. "Good evening." Lecter's voice had the rasp of maturity, and there was a trace of a low growl under his breath. "Have a seat."

His metallic voice startles her back into the present. She clears her throat. "Hello, Dr. Lecter. My name is Clarice Starling. I'd like to ask you a few questions." she says, forcing her head to remain high, but not arrogantly so. She doesn't take a seat however. "I'm with the FBI." she says, as if that would better explain her being there.

He perked his brow somewhat sarcastically, and the trace of an amused grin stretched across his lips, slightly exposing his small, white teeth and crinkling the crows feet around his eyes. "May I see your credentials?" He stood and spoke with the elegance of an aristocrat, though he gazed into her eyes as if she were some sort of prey.

"Of course." she whispered, shifting her grip on her things in order to dig into the pocket of her cheap skirt suit's jacket pocket. She studied him as she did, fumbling a bit for a few moments before pulling out the small flip wallet containing her identification. She held it up, keeping close to the brick wall and keeping her arm to her chest, as if he would spring through the glass to her.

"I can't read them from here," he hissed at her, "come closer." Every bit of her body language fed his curiosity, and he had the urge to test her tolerance. In a way, he fed off of others' fear, as if it empowered him the way a constrictor peers into it's prey's eyes before squeezing the last drop of life from them.

She pressed her lips into a firm line, holding her badge out further, arms length, but not getting closer than that. Her eyes were locked onto his face, and she could tell he wasn't looking at her badge, he was looking at her. Looking at her eyes. Trying to detect fear. She tensed her jaw a bit as she forced her eyes to harden. There, now she had no visible weaknesses, she believed.

Lecter made his request in the way one would lull a small animal toward them. "Closer."

She narrowed her pale blue eyes and stepped up closer, keeping her badge out at arms length, stepping up until she was alongside the chair left out for her, her hand almost able to touch the glass that separated them. Just a half a step more and she would be able to. Something pushes her to ask, "Is that alright, Dr. Lecter?" wanting to make sure he could read it now, not wanting to push his patience or his temper. Her voice is sincere and careful, a West Virginia accent crept into her voice that she had managed to keep down when she introduced herself.

When their distance was to his preference, he stepped toward the glass, so close that the tip of his nose was just inches from it and his warm breath fogged it slightly. "These expire in one week. You're not real FBI are you?" He smirked at her, clearly unimpressed.

"I'm still in training at the academy." she answered, locking her eyes with his. She folded her wallet back together and tucked it away. She finally accepted his offer to sit, easing herself onto the chair. She's still studying him, though not in a rude manner, in a respectful, interested way. Her pale eyes kept in view with her hair tucked behind her ears.

Dr. Lecter backed a few inches away from the glass, offended by the idea of being analyzed by a mere student. "Jack Crawford sent a student- to me?" He glared into the distance for the moment. "He must really have his hands full to be recruiting from the student body. That boy Buffalo Bill, the one they've been talking about in the newspapers. He's been a naughty boy hasn't he?" Almost instantly his expression turned from infuriated to playful.

"Yes, Sir. I'm a student." she says honestly. "I'm here to learn from you. If you think I'm qualified to do that, Dr. Lecter." she tries to keep saying his name, trying to show respect and hopefully she will catch more flies with honey.

He smiled politely, though he was thoroughly amused by her. No one had been this clever with him, at least not for some time. "Hmm... That is rather slippery of you." Lecter considered for a moment. "Miggs hissed at you as you walked by. Tell me, what did he say?" It was a common practice of intrusive psychology to constantly change the subject in an attempt to redirect the subjects attention and confuse them. Lecter had mastered this concept, and had always found it quite useful. On the off chance she was less intelligent than she had presented herself to be, he would be rid of her within a few minutes.

Her face became a mix of annoyance at leaving the subject, and a strong dislike for vulgarity. There's also a small part of her that hasn't yet gotten used to it all, the part of her that tenses under Dr. Lecters sharp, penetrative gaze. She swallows a bit hard, forcing herself to say, "He said, 'I can smell your cunt.'" and she glances away for a brief moment, as if to prevent him from thinking she said the word cunt. Her eyes warily return to him.

His jaw tensed. Lecter despised such vulgarities, but even more so he detested rudeness. It was painfully obvious to him that he, this place, and everyone in it made her uncomfortable, and for no particular reason he dulled his tone, so as not to seem quite as threatening. "I see," he said irritated, "I myself cannot. Now what was your question?"

"Well, question_s_, Doctor." she whispered, touching the questionnaire. _This seems silly. He won't go for this._ she tells herself. It's her turn to brush away the subject. She nodded to the artwork on his wall. "Did you do all those drawings?" she asks, kindly, and obviously impressed. Maybe if she makes a connection he will be more apt to actually completing the questionnaire, and not just filling it full of nonsense.

Despite his cold exterior, Lecter was incredibly lonely, and the smile that crept weakly across his mouth. "Yes. This is Florence, Italy as seen from the Belvedere." Several other drawing hung in the background, most of them detailing the vital organs within the human body, though some were portraits of historical artists Lecter admired.

"They're very good." she whispered, complimenting him as she cranes her neck to see all the details she could. "Is all of that from memory, Sir?" she asked, her eyes flashing back to him, sitting back just a little.

He snickered. "Memory, Agent Starling, is what I have instead of a view." _Intriguing young lady. Almost as polite as Barney._ Lecter smiled at her through the glass. A small flare of frustration escaped him at the thought of being unable to visit his home. He had grown tired of the U.S. long before his incarceration.

She knows it will fail before she starts, but she decides, after telling herself it wasn't right yet, to suggest, "Well, Doctor, maybe you'd care to share us with your view of-" she cuts herself off, not even able to finish the suggestion. She keeps her determination in her face, but she knows, _she knows_, that he is about to chide her. He wouldn't fall for that suggestion. He wouldn't fall for the greatest attempt at this. But she has to try.

Lecter smiled, clicking his tongue in disapproval and shaking his head. "No no no Agent Starling. You were doing fine. You had been courteous and responded to courtesy, established trust with the embarrassing truth about Miggs. And now this ham-handed segue into your Questionnaire." His voice sharpened, an even lower growl than before. "It won't do." _Such a pity. She seemed to be different from the others. Why keep getting your hopes up you old fool?_

She pressed her lips together for a moment, locking their eyes. "I just want you to look at this, Dr. Lecter. Either you will or you won't." she says, holding it up a little before setting it back down on her lap. There, at least it was out. At this point he would either toy with her and send her away when he was done, or he would be so annoyed with her he would send her away now. There's apology in her eyes, as if she is some retail clerk, forced to ask him to donate a dollar to some charity fund she knows he won't care about but her managers demand it of her.

The tension in his jaw and eyes softened slightly, and he spoke in what seemed like wisps. Lecter's momentary disappointment had instantly turned to rage, and he was trying to collect himself. "Now you pass that through." He stood near the sliding box, the only link between him and whoever stood on the other side of the glass. Lecter made a point of keeping a fair distance from it, hoping not to alarm her any further.

She gripped at the questionnaire and then sent it through, trying to keep the jump down at the sharp, metallic scraping as the tray clanged through. She slowly sat down again, her slim, slender fingers gripping at the wood seat, watching him with interest.

Lecter glanced sarcastically over to her as he licked his thumb to turn the page. He scanned through the Table of Contents and over the first page of questions. _Oh Jack, you never cease to amuse me. _He laughed as he set it into the sliding tray. "Crawford believes he can dissect me with this blunt little tool?" He locked eyes with her and slammed the carrier through.

She jolted that time, just a little, and then she looked to him, fumbling, a bit, over her words. "No, Dr. Lecter. We are hoping your knowledge will help us with Buffalo Bill." she whispered, her voice low and quiet, meant only for him to hear. Not that it hadn't before, but he knocked her voice down in tone and volume.

"Ah. Tell me Agent Starling. Why do you think that he skins his victims." Lecter's eyes moved over and through her, pinpointing every tiny shudder, every minute twitch of fear. He was truly a predator, and his maroon eyes added to the sinister nature of his appearance.

"Prizes. Most killers take trophies of some sort off their victims." she says it confidently. To her, that part of the profile had already been filled. She doesn't say it arrogantly, it's impossible to speak arrogantly to this man, she believes. But she does have confidence and determination, shining out of her.

Lecter stepped closer to the glass, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He had one leg crossed over the other, holding his knee with one hand. Even his posture was that of a European gentlemen, his etiquette flawless. "I see. Well, Miss Starling, it's been pleasant. Barney! She's done with me. you can let her out now. I rather enjoyed our little conversation. Tah." He smiled at her, his eyes completely soft, but only for a moment. _If I want her to keep coming back I need to leave some questions unanswered. It's been too long since I've had a pleasant conversation._

She blinked, but pulled her questionnaire out of the tray, a respectful farewell bow of her head in his direction. She shifts away, not thinking to get back against the wall to walk back to the door. She is thinking over everything, their entire conversation, both spoken and silent. She hears a sound that draws her back, Miggs is hissing at her again, though a little louder than before. He flings what she quickly realizes is semen in her face, just barely managing to close her eyes and mouth, stunned into a horrified silence. The other inmates began rattling against the bars of their cells, cackling and making her hair stand on end. She's scared into staying put, like a rabbit trapped by a fox, eyes wide now and her whole frame trembling just a little. Only someone as sharp as Lecter would spot the subtle motion.

Lecter had hear Miggs hissing in his cell, as they were right next to each other. He moved to the edge of his room where he could see down the hall, and watched Clarice as she walked away. "Agent Starling! Agent Starling." He screamed desperately down the hall. "Agent Starling come back here."

She moved quickly back to him, though chided herself instantly. What a stupid thing to do, go back to a man like him. But his voice had had urgency and she refused to ignore a man like Lecter. She pressed against the glass, looking over her shoulder at the edge of his cell to where she knew Miggs lay beyond, and then she glanced up at him, blue eyes wide, still scared, one hand attempting to grip at the glass it seemed.

Lecter began speaking immediately, almost shouting. He wanted to keep his voice loud enough that only she could understand what he was saying. "I apologize Agent Starling I would have never had that happen to you. You must ignore Miggs he is after all a lunatic. Seek out Mr. Mofet. M-o-f-e-t. Look deep within yourself. Hurry there isn't much time." He stared at her through he glass, panicked. "Go! Now!" His lip quivered as he said his goodbyes within his own mind, and within a few short seconds, he was back to his usual composed self despite the clanging of bars and the shouting down the hall. _She's intelligent enough to detect an anagram. I just hope she's clever enough to sway Crawford._

She stared at him, finding what he said hokey, and Miss Mofet, that didn't seem right. But at his shout to go she backed away from the glass, looking back over her shoulder with a startled but grateful look on her face, tucking against the bricks as she nearly jogged out of the area, ducking through the gate.

Lecter sat back on his bed and drew in a deep breath. _Hmm. Miggs will suffer for this. Despicable little deviant he is. _He beckoned to Miggs, his voice light, like the flick of a snake's tongue. "Oh Miggs. Miggs, can you here me?" He grunted through the bars, still holding his genitals. "What? What do you want from me?" He began with a snarl, but broke into tears shortly after. "Just to talk. You wouldn't mind a little talk would you?" Miggs broke into tears. "No. Shut up. Shut the fuck up!" Lecter snickered, lowering his voice to a whisper. "It's alright. Now now now, poor little Miggs. You daddy can't get to you in here. Everything is fine. Just fine. No more late night visits. No more of him plowing into you like a 16 year old boy with his prom date." He howled as he began to sob. "Shut up. Shut up damn you." Lecter smiled. "I'd swallow that foul little tongue of yours, that is, if you don't want me to cut it out of you and swallow it whole. Sweet dreams little Miggsy." When Lecter was done with his torture, he laid down and slipped into a light sleep, and images of Clarice raced through his mind.

Clarice sat up for a few hours, playing with what he said and doing research. It was dark by the time she managed to get a hold of the manager for Your Self Storage. She grunted when the door refused to open further, huffing and getting her car jack. She put all her strength into it until it just would not go any further. She crawled into the storage unit, wrinkling her nose at the stale air. She could even see her breath in here, in the dark, dusty unit. She looked around, and when she got to the car she felt the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She slowly pulled the black cloth off the object that had her attention. She pulled back against the other side of the car, her mouth open a bit. She got out of the car, out of the unit, and got back to the men with her. "Call that number I gave you. Have them send a team down here. Please." she said, touching the man on the arm. "Oh. Where will you be going?" he asked, turning to her. "Sorry, I have to go. Just send the team. Tell them to send forensics and detectives." she said, getting to her car. She reached out and said "Oh and, uh, don't go in there. Thank you." she said, gesturing to the unit before getting back in her car. "Lets hope I don't get a flat on the way." she mused to herself, looking to her jack still stuck under the door as she drove away.

Hannibal woke up to the sound of gurgling and choking, and smirked to himself. "Took my advice literally did you Miggs? That's a good boy, Though you really should chew your food." Barney had noticed Miggs' distressed state early on and called for a medical team, though by the time Chilton and the team arrived he was dead. Chilton walked over to Lecter's cell and glared in at him. "You've done it this time Lecter. Barney! Grab the dolly, the restraints and his mask. We're clearing his room." Hannibal glared at him. "Seems a bit harsh for ridding the world of suck a disgusting man. Don't they usually assign medals for that?" Chilton didn't answer, he sped up to Barney's side and spoke sharply. "Get me the television. I feel like the religious approach today." Once they had cleared his cell of his pictures, writing utensils, even his soft cover books. All forms of recreation were removed hastily, and Chilton turned the television volume up to its highest setting once he found the Christian Gospel channel. "Enjoy the show, Doctor." Lecter grinned. "But of course, Doctor Chilton. Shall I put in the good word for you with the lord? Heaven knows a weasel like you needs a reference." He snickered when Chilton didn't answer, and stared at the wall, lost in thought.

Clarice got herself to the hospital and it was pouring cold rain. It had only been drizzling when she was at the storage unit. The staff seemed to flutter around, as if something had happened. She was nervous, but then remembered something Crawford had said when she called him herself from her mobile phone on her way to the asylum. Miggs was dead. Said it was Lecter. However, she had learned from her last run in with Miggs, and she walked down the darkened hallway, pressed against the brick wall. Barney had turned down the volume on a TV for her before she got down there. She looked into the cell, and even with the light shining from the TV she couldn't see him. Wet, cold, and her leg stinging from the cut, she settled down by the glass. "Dr. Lecter?" she asked, her eyes squinting into the darkness. "Mofet. Hester Mofet. The rest of me. Miss Hester Mofet. Miss the rest of me. Where is the rest of him?" she asked, her voice quiet, near the lower set of holes in the glass. She is shivering just a little, her coat does nothing against the cold thanks to her wet hair.

Lecter paused for a moment, and then the lights came on. "Thank you Barney." He still faced the wall, and hadn't acknowledged her question nor her presence.

She licked her lips, not moving from her place against the glass, her eye near one of the holes, her lips near the other. "Dr. Lecter... Please, who is Hester Mofet? Who's head is in that jar?" she asked, locking her eyes onto him, her hand unconsciously touched the glass, the other covering the bloody tear in her leg.

Lecter stood and placed a towel in the carrier, and gently slid it through so as not to disturb her. "Good. Very astute, as I thought. I am truly impressed." He smiled and sat down on his bed, facing her with a somewhat warm expression, at least for him it was.

She studied him for a few moments, and then sighed. She took the towel, placed it to her hair and whispered, "Thank you, Dr. Lecter." she whispered respectfully. She worked at her hair, quiet for a few moments. She closed her eyes and then opened them again, as if steadying herself. "Dr. Lecter, whose head is in that bottle?"

"Just as you said, Hester Mofet. Had a few difficulties did you? At least it's begun to clot." He smiled widely and his eyes went cold. The smell of blood often aroused his hunger.

She was confused for a moment, but then she realized. "How did you..?" she asked quietly, furrowing her brows and glancing down to the wound on her leg. She looked back up again, sighing. "I can only follow what clues you give, Dr. Lecter. If that was a patient of yours, I wouldn't know, you ruined all the files." She leaned a little closer to the glass. "I can't follow the bread crumbs if you lay none down." she whispered, trying to lock their gaze.

His expression was playful, and he was amused by just how clever she was. "Have patience, Clarice. I promise it will not go unrewarded. Now, I'd like to know, what connections do _you_ make in all of this? You must have some suspicions." He laced his fingers and set them on his lap.

She was rolling things over in her head, trying to figure them out. "Transvestite?" she asked, her eyes holding confusion. "The dress, the make-up..." she narrowed her eyes. "You obviously didn't kill him. Not your style." she said, biting at her thumb nail, just lightly, not enough to actually damage the nail. She paused however, the lights had been on but she had been focused on Lecter. "Your drawings... What happened to them?" she asked, sounding saddened and concerned for him, craning her pale neck to see all around the cell before looking back to him, her brows drawn together.

"Taken as punishment for Miggs. That lovely little gospel channel you see right there will be turned up full blast when you leave. Chilton does love his petty little torments." He snickered and locked eyes with her. "In regard to Mofet, you are correct in saying that I didn't kill him, I merely hid him away just as I had found him. In life he was a transvestite, his sexual indulgences bordering on the erotic." _Ooh, she is good. Very good. This will be some fun after all._

Her eyes start darting all over the place, as if trying to think of that one actor. You know the one, they played that one character in that movie. But you can't place the name. She opens her mouth a few times, and then closes it again. She wants to be sure. She doesn't want to waste his time with incorrect leads, he would find that rude. She knows him well enough already to know that. "But _he_ didn't go by Mofet. You assigned that just for me to figure out." she said, thinking. She just can't link all the pieces, there is too much missing. "But what does this have to do with Buffalo Bill?" she asks in a breathless voice, pleading eyes turning his way.

"No, didn't go by the name Mofet. Benjamin Raspail. He was a patient of mine, a manic depressive. His struggle with sexuality was only a small part in his overall dissatisfaction with life." Lecter seemed impatient, but he was merely trying to keep her on track. He didn't want her to lose sight of what she was so close to figuring out.

Her eyes squint. This couldn't possibly be it. "Buffalo Bill?" she whispers, shifting onto her knees, eyes large. "Was it Buffalo Bill? But he kills women... Why would be kill Raspail?" she asked, tucking her still slightly damp hair behind one ear. Her eyes drop to her knees. "It's not because he is a transvestite. His crimes aren't hate related. At least not that way. They may be hate related." she whispered, trying to decode it in her own way.

Lecter smiled, as if recalling a fond memory. "Consider it the early work of a blossoming career. He was sloppy, uncertain. The rest Miss Starling, I'll leave to you. I rather enjoy these little talks and I'd like them to be more frequent." the light gleamed in his eyes, making them a lighter shade of maroon, almost magenta.

She stood, slowly, making sure to not touch the glass. She didn't want to smudge where he was going to be looking through. "Good night, then, Dr. Lecter." she whispered, holding the towel close. She stood still, though, as if waiting for his return, or further dismissal.

"Good night, Clarice." The lights shut off and Barney could be heard from the intercom. "Sorry Dr. Lecter. Chilton's orders. Bear with it and you'll have your things back shortly." Lecter smiled, though it was concealed by the darkness. "That's alright Barney. You didn't order this, after all." He made his voice loud enough to be heard down the hall, though it was extremely polite.

Clarice studied the darkness, nodded her head a bit, moved to the brick wall and walked cautiously down to the end of the hall. She mulled over her thoughts on Lecter. It was obvious how he had avoided capture for so long. He was intelligent, refined, collected. If she didn't know better she would think he was the head doctor here, not Chilton. Barney let her through and she handed him the towel, trying to ignore the mildly confused look on his face. She found her way back out of the asylum, trying to put the puzzle pieces together that Dr. Lecter was helping her discover.

Once Barney was finished seeing Clarice out, he headed back to his station and flipped on the lights in Lecter's cell. Lecter smiled to himself. "Thank you Barney. You are too kind." Barney stared at the monitor, watching Clarice leave. "You are most welcome Doctor." He said through the intercom linked to Lecter's room. He could have been written up for defying Chilton's orders, regardless of how inhumane they may have been.


	3. Chapter 2

The next day, Arleen Makem, Hannibal's lawyer, showed up. She was younger, in her early 30's, and had gotten his case mainly out of luck. The old lawyer had handed her a very large case file and said "You can deal with him!" and left. Their first visit had been a tad awkward, she had been kind, and admitted with a flush that she hadn't had much time to look over his case file. She complimented his drawings, and asked him what could make his stay better. She was there again, having gotten little response from him last time and having been informed of Miggs being killed by Hannibal in some round about way. She was confused as she moved down the hall and spotted the TV. She walked up to his cell, offered him a greeting but it froze out half way, her eyes flying all over his cell. She glanced to the TV, dropped her briefcase and said to Hannibal, "Please, excuse me. I'll be back in just a few moments." bowing her head a bit to him. She turned on her heels and moved fast to the end of the hall.

Hannibal had scared his previous lawyer into dropping his case after an unpleasant visit. He recited their home address, license plate number, wife and children's names, even their school schedule. All of this was information he had compiled over several years, and it was enough to force the attorney into an early retirement. Lecter had rather enjoyed his first meeting with Arleen, he found her to be charming and genuinely polite. All that he said when she said she'd be back was "Very well," before she stormed away.

She returned just a few minutes later, his drawing and supplies in her hands. Chilton followed after her, looking angry with a box of books in his arms. She gestured to the chair, pulled the TV out of the wall and pushed it closer to Chilton. "Thank you kindly, Mr. Chilton." she said. "_Doctor._" he corrected her sharply. She gave him a small smile. "Of course you are." she said. "Now, if you please, I-" "He's my patient, Miss Makem." he snapped at her. "Yes, well, he's _my_ client and I have some things to speak to him about that have absolutely nothing to do with you. Now, please, return to your office." she asked, her voice tight but polite. He turned, angry, and at her reminder pulled the TV with him. She looked to Hannibal and put his things into the slider tray. She'd work on his books next. "Sorry about that." she said, sending his art and supplies through.

He sat with his hands folded in his lap, smiling through the glass with his cold, lifeless eyes awaiting her return. When she slid his things through the carrier, he had a questioning look in his eyes. Hannibal retrieved them and set them on the edge of his bed, then gestured to the chair outside of the glass. "Please have a seat. I'd offer you a gesture of gratitude, but unfortunately I have nothing to give. And, gifts are prohibited, or so I've been told."

"You are my client, Dr. Lecter. And I won't have you treated this way. I don't need a gift for understanding what is inhumane." she said, slowly putting his books into the slider. She didn't want to jam it so she only managed to put a few in before carefully sliding it through.

Lecter grinned. "Hmm, you are a peculiar young lady indeed. I must admit I am not used to what you call 'humane' treatment. Chilton is like an emotionally disturbed older sibling who's jealousy has become rage. Myself, being the younger sibling, of course." He chuckled to himself at the thought of them actually being siblings. He would have eaten him long before it became what it now was.

Her eyes narrowed a bit and she paused in her book moving and forced her posture to resettle before finishing with his things and sending it through one last time. She finally settled on the chair. "I see." she said after a few moments. "I'll make sure to speak to him about that." she said. She fixed the hem of her skirt and set her right leg over her left leg, at the knee. "I could manage a transfer, I am sure." she said, looking to him. "I could get you away from him. At least try."

Hannibal narrowed his eyes and looked past her, staring into the distance and deep in thought. "You would need quite a bit of evidence to justify a transfer for me." He bared his teeth like a hungry animal.

"Sure, but I can still try." she said. It seemed like it meant something to her. Like helping him was her life's goal. "But if I see another inhumane display I will have his license." she said, fire in her eyes.

His lips cracked into a devious smile. "I must say Ms. Makem, your ruthlessness in law seems to match my vicious nature. I commend you, and am quite pleased to have you on my case." Lecter had not sincerely complimented many people, and though he may have seemed cold at that moment, he truly was impressed with Arleen.

He didn't seem vicious to her, but she was happy to gain a compliment none the less. She smiled a little. "Thank you." she whispered, bowing her head again to him. "Besides getting away from Chilton, is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked, drawing her brows together.

Hannibal tilted his head in amusement. "You are most welcome. And no, no I believe we should focus on key points at the moment. Though I deeply appreciate the offer, I'd much prefer to be transferred before risking the loss of anymore sentiments to Chilton."

"Alright." she said with a small nod and a smile. "If he does anything or you need anything. No, want. If you _want_ anything you let me know." she said. She jotted down her private line on one of her business cards, rolled it just a bit and used one of the holes in the glass to pass it to him, standing to do so. She gathered her briefcase and smiled kindly to him, her bright hazel eyes locking onto him.

Hannibal was taken aback. He bowed his head in gratitude. "I very much enjoy our time together, Ms. Makem. I hope to see you soon."

She kept her smile and nodded to him, the words "Keep in touch." drifting down the hall as her stiletto heels clicked on the cement.

The rest of the day Clarice tried to pass herself between two planes of thought. Half of her energy went into her schooling, her training. The rest of it went into Buffalo Bill, particularly Dr. Lecters half hints. She had a busy two days, and but the end of it her mind was spinning. Clarice stared at the TV as Senator Martin made her plea to the killer. Crawford pulled her aside, told her that Senator Martin had an offer for them to offer Hannibal for help, and she took the case file for Buffalo Bill, and the settlement. She ran to the asylum, and was horribly annoyed when Chilton held her up. Chilton was still licking his wounds from Hannibal's last visitor, and he was unhappy to have to deal with another snubbing him off. Just beyond the door of the hallway to Lecter she turned to him and smiled tightly. "Doctor Chilton. I have work to do. If you have a problem with that you can call the attorneys office. They'll help you with anything you need. Now, if you will excuse me, I have this follow up with Dr. Lecter." she said, her pale blue eyes narrowing sharply. Barney rang her in and she backed away from him, moving through the door as it opened. Barney closed it before Dr. Chilton could go through, a small shrug of his shoulders the only answer given to Dr. Chilton. Clarice moved through the hallway, her shoulder brushing the bricks. She glanced over to Lecters cage, a quiet determination in her eyes. She didn't say anything, just stood and waiting for him to greet her, not wanting to disrupt him if he was doing anything.

Lecter had been given his drawings and pens back by his attorney's order, and already he had several new illustrations pinned up on the wall. One that he kept well hidden was a sketch of Clarice, though it was visible from spot she normally sat in. "Miggs is dead, Clarice. You can stop hugging the wall and relax." He rose from his seat an looked at her through expectantly through the glass.

She smiled. "I know, Dr. Lecter. But I should have been following protocol." she explained. She moved closer to the glass. She kept a little closer to the glass than she had at first, but not as close as she had when cold and wet, or directly after her run in with Miggs. She held up what she had in her hands. "Case file for Buffalo Bill. And a settlement from Senator Martin. If you help save her daughter, she will transfer you. There will be trees and water, and a beach that you can walk on for an hour, monitored of course." she said, her eyes holding her determination. Every day, every step closer, she felt the need gnawing at her bones to catch Buffalo Bill.

Lecter looked at her questioningly. "Send that through please. I'd like to look over this offer before I give you my professional opinion." _Why would she barter for me? She seems to have taken somewhat of a personal interest._

She side stepped to the tray, sending it through. She slowly sat down in her seat, watching him. She kept her feet and knees together, her hands on her knees and her eyes locked onto him, trying to watch his body language.

Lecter thumbed through the offer, laughing to himself. "An animal and disease testing facility. Sounds charming."

"It's a view, isn't it, Doctor?" she asked, raising her brows at him. "Wouldn't be stuck in this box. With Chilton." she said, her eyes growing hard and almost angry at the thought of Chilton.

He turned and locked his eyes with hers. "Give me one hour in privacy, with his file, and I'll tell you what I think. I shall have my answer by then as well." There was a trace of rage in his voice. He knew the offer was rubbish, and would rather suffer Chilton's petty torments than endure a new series of torture.

She looked right back at him. "We found an object in one of the victims today." she whispered. "An object _inserted_ in her throat." she said, watching him, waiting to see if he said anything about it, or just left it.

His eyes softened with curiosity. "Did you? Was it a butterfly?" Lecter sat down on his bed once again, somewhat fatigued from yet another sleepless night.

"Yes, it was." she whispered, leaning a little closer. "A moth, actually." she furrowed her brows a little. "How did you know, Dr. Lecter?" she asked, curious.

"The moth is seen as a symbol of transformation. Come on Clarice, you know the profiles, the modus operendi so to speak. Think." Lecter grinned and glanced to his sketches.

"The killer is a transvestite?" she said, her voice skeptical. "But transvestites are passive, and rarely ever linked to violent crimes." She followed his gaze to the sketches, and was quite surprised to spot the one of her, almost hidden but not quite. Just visible enough for her to see it from her place. It was done well, she could tell it was her instantly. Again she marveled at his memory and attention to detail.

Lecter had hoped she wouldn't notice him looking, as he was trying to weed out any possible mistakes he had made in his drawing. _I'll have to tear that one down. It wasn't even finished. _"Think Starling, what is at the root of all things we do? What is his reasoning, his purpose." His voice had turned sharp, as if trying to prompt her to focus.

"He kills." she said, but then realized his question was different, deeper. "He...wants to be a woman?" she ventures, locking her eyes onto his face and leaning forward, eager to hear if she was on the right track.

"Very good. I underestimated you, Clarice." His snakelike gaze returned, and he inhaled a lengthy breath through his nose, taking in the scents around him. "Is that a new perfume, Clarice? I don't believe you've worn that here before." Lecter smiled politely and tilted his head downward, looking up at her through narrowed eyes.

"Wanted to finish the bottle." she explains, a little bit of the color draining out of her face. She had had the bottle for years, but rarely bothered with it. She finally decided it was time to kill it. However, she didn't expect him to notice and it's plainly written all over her face.

He squinted his eyes at her. "Ah. It's a pleasant fragrance." Lecter folded his hands in his lap as he returned to his seat on the bed. "If you want to find him, I'd start with the basics. There are three medical facilities that offer sex-change procedures. Start with Johns-Hopkins, and work your way down. I wouldn't doubt that he had applied to each of them and been rejected, more than likely from some sort of mental illness." He laid down and set his hands on his stomach. "That will be all, Agent Starling. If you continue to do as well as you have, I don't imagine I'll be seeing you again. It's been a treat."

She frowned in his direction, studying him on the cot for a few moments. That was a short conversation, and it seemed their conversations normally lasted quite a deal longer. She swallowed a little hard and said, "Good bye, Dr. Lecter." before stepping away from the glass and heading back down to the end of the hallway. Barney seemed distracted watching them as it took him a moment or two to realize Clarice was at the door and buzz her in.

Lecter sighed to himself, and said his final goodbyes within his mind. About an hour or so after Clarice had left, Chilton walked down the hall to Lecter's cell. Chilton was angry, but he seemed to have a worry regarding Lecters lawyer. However, he lost his temper with not gaining any credit with what the FBI trainee agent Clarice Starling was getting from Lecter regarding the Buffalo Bill case. He wanted to get at Lecter anyway he "That deal they gave you was a sham. Oh, they played you." He could hardly suppress his wide, triumphant grin. He laughed a bit as he finished his sentence.

Lecter looked rather sullen as he sat on the corner of his bed. "Barney, grab the usual restraints for him." He stepped slightly away from the glass. "I have a real offer here, from the senator herself. If Bill is caught, with your help of course, you will be moved to a more cozy location, maximum security of course. You'll have that view you've been obsessing over." Lecter peered at him through the glass. Barney walked up at that very moment with the restraints and the usual guard who was armed with a tranquilizer gun. "Alright Doctor. We're going to come in. Same procedure, if you turn from the wall you'll get a dart." Lecter smiled politely at Barney. "It's alright Barney." He rose from his bed, his face only inches from the glass and his eyes locked with Chilton's. Lecter headed to the vacant corner of his room, put his hands on the back of his head, and spread his legs. Within minutes he was strapped to the dolly mask and all. Chilton enjoyed putting Lecter in as small a space as possible and near gloating over it.

Arleen wanted to see what was happening with Hannibal as often as possible now that she had her suspicions of Dr. Chilton. She knew her way through the building, and the guards knew better than to get between her and her client. She paused when she found the guard room to Lecters ward empty, but she spotted a security camera, and spotted Chilton laughing at Lecter, bound as he was. She raged and figured out how to open the gate. The clicks of her heels were sharp, and the scent of black raspberry and vanilla wafted down the hall. She was paused by Barney and the other guard. They had left Chilton alone at his command. Barney tried to slow Arleen down, but she had none of it. "Chilton." she snapped, rounding the corner and walking boldly into Lecters cell.

Chilton was on his feet quick. "Miss Makem, what a surprise." he said, smiling to her brightly. She looked to Lecter for a moment and her anger only intensified as she looked back to Chilton. "How dare you? I'll have your license for this." she snapped, her voice losing it's normal calm, polite manner. She was a soft spoken woman, but her anger made her voice a bit louder, shaking just a bit at the unusual volume which barely rivaled Chiltons speaking voice. "Out!" she commanded, pointing out of the cell and standing almost protectively between Lecter and Chilton. Her grip on her briefcase handle was white knuckled. Chilton sneered a bit, "You defend the monster, hmm?" he asked, raising one brow. "No. Sorry. I'm not on your case." she growled in return, her head lowered.

Chilton smirked, backing away from her. "Alright, alright, Miss Makem. Enjoy your meeting." he said, sliding the door shut quickly and locking it. "Chilton!" she said, going to the glass and touching the metal. He laughed at her from beyond. "This will be quite interesting. I wonder what part of you he decides to eat." he said, his voice cold. She stared at him, her eyes side and almost scared, her mouth open a bit and her chest heaving under her tailored 3 piece suit. He turned from her as she whispered his name, waving to her and walking away. Barney tried to go to help her but Chilton refused him. "If you let her out you're fired, Barney." he growled.


End file.
